


Suspirium

by ihopethelightwillshineupon



Category: Mushishi
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Illness, but i wanted to explore a scenario in which he's FORCED to stay somewhere, ginko always leaves as soon as possible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 15:40:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30040932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ihopethelightwillshineupon/pseuds/ihopethelightwillshineupon
Summary: Ginko must never stay in one place for too long. It’s dangerous, for the people around him and for himself. He has to keep moving – if he stays, the mushi that follow him will stay as well. He can’t stop, can’t settle, can’trest.Then, a bad case of the flu leaves him bedridden.
Relationships: Adashino & Ginko (Mushishi)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Suspirium

**Author's Note:**

> **suspirium** _[latin; noun]_ : a deep breath, a gasp, a sigh.

The air is cold and misty when Ginko visits. Fog rolls in from the sea, shrouding Adashino’s house in a heavy white veil. And through that near-impenetrable white approaches a man in similar pale colors, almost unnoticeable.

Adashino recognizes him by his footsteps rather than his appearance – Ginko is only a faint shadow in the mist, too far away still to see properly. Adashino puts down the scroll he’s studying and raises a hand, waves at Ginko. Ginko doesn’t return the greeting, which is odd, but then again, Ginko is an odd man. Besides, there’s no telling how long Ginko has been travelling for. Adashino knows that he favors walking over sleeping, sometimes. He’s likely tired.

“Morning, Ginko,” Adashino greets him as soon as he’s nearby enough. He discreetly rolls up the scroll in his lap; he probably won’t have time to read again, anyway, and Ginko might criticize him for reading about mushi that are too dangerous to know about. That wouldn’t be the first time.

Ginko glances towards the parchment, but says nothing about it. “Morning.” He lowers himself onto the porch with a deep sigh; it sounds to Adashino as if his luggage is twice, maybe thrice as heavy as usual. It piques his curiosity.

“So,” he says, “what brings you here, my friend? If you’ve brought along some interesting mushi artefacts, then I’d be more than happy to take them off your hands--”

He trails off when Ginko merely shakes his head and leans forward, leaning his elbows on his knees. It’s difficult to tell, since Ginko is sitting on Adashino’s right hand side and his hair obscures most of his face from this angle, but he seems pale, and his skin can’t be this damp from the fog alone. He watches with growing concern as Ginko rubs a hand across his face and closes his eyes.

“Actually, Adashino,” he replies, his voice low, “I need your help.”

Ginko turns away, coughs into his elbow. He doesn’t say it out loud, but it’s clear that he’s not well. Adashino curses himself for not noticing instantly, for allowing his curiosity to blind him, albeit only briefly. He turns towards Ginko, his eyebrows knitting together in worry. “If it’s mushi that did this, then I can’t help you,” he reminds him. No matter how hard Adashino tries, he still knows too little about the creatures. If it’s mushi that are making Ginko ill, then he is not the right kind of doctor to help him.

Ginko shakes his head again. “If it were mushi, then I would’ve known,” he replies. “I’m… just a bit under the weather, I think.”

Adashino feels guilty for it, but the probability of a regular sickness makes him feel relieved; that’s something he knows how to treat. “Let’s get you out of this cold, then,” he says, getting up. “I’ll prepare a futon so you can lie down.”

As it turns out, Ginko is too tired to take another step – Adashino helps him to his feet and helps him into the house, carefully. He can feel the heat radiating off him, even in the cold winter air. There’s no doubt that he has a fever. Adashino wonders how he even made it here in his condition, but the mud on his clothes makes it clear that he stumbled a couple of times on the way. It can’t have been an easy journey.

Adashino sits him down on the floor and carries Ginko’s luggage inside; he’s noticed that Ginko doesn’t like to be too far away from his things. It’s only a guess, but he suspects that his things have been stolen one too many times. The box isn’t heavier than usual.

He lays out a futon for Ginko in the guest room. The guest room honestly belongs more to Ginko than it does to Adashino, at this point – sure, Adashino has more guests than just him, but Ginko has stayed in this room more often than anyone. There’s a smell of mushi tobacco in the room that never truly goes away.

Tired as he is, Ginko thanks him and moves to lie down immediately, but Adashino stops him just in time. “You should get out of those dirty clothes,” he tells him, gesturing to the mud that’s caked to his knees and elbows. “I’ll wash them for you. Get changed; I’ll make you some tea to help with the fever.”

By the time Adashino returns with a cup of hot herbal tea – the steam has fogged up his monocle – Ginko’s lied down already, wrapped tightly in the blanket. He sits up when Adashino enters the room, although it seems to take him a lot of effort; whatever stubborn strength brought him to Adashino’s doorstep, it’s gone now.

Adashino hands him the cup of tea and sits on the floor beside him, watching him carefully blow on his tea before taking a sip. “How are you feeling?”

Ginko sighs, making the steam from the cup dance in front of his face. “Not great,” he admits wearily.

“I figured that.” Ginko is the kind of person who doesn’t ask for help unless it’s absolutely necessary – Adashino still recalls vividly that one time Ginko showed up with a twisted ankle that he’d been walking on for a week. For Adashino, as a doctor and Ginko’s friend, Ginko’s stubbornness is frustrating, and frightening.

He almost doesn’t dare ask, but he needs to know; “For how long did you walk around with a fever?”

Ginko looks away. “Don’t know. A couple of days.”

“A couple of days,” Adashino echoes, incredulous. With how cold it’s been for the past days and with how exhausted Ginko clearly is, it’s a miracle that he didn’t keel over and die somewhere on his way. The thought of Ginko lying dead on some obscure mountain path or in the middle of the swamp, never to be found again, makes Adashino feel cold inside. “Well, I’m glad you made it here alive.”

“Yeah.” Ginko clears his throat. “Me, too.”

He takes another sip of his tea, inviting a silence into the room. Adashino gets up from the floor. “I’ll leave you to rest, now,” he says. “I’ll wash your clothes in a bit, but it might be a while before they’re dry in this weather. You’ll have them back by tomorrow.”

Ginko sets the teacup down and sighs. “Adashino.”

“Yes?”

“You know I can’t stay here. If I stay here for too long, I’ll start to attract mushi – and who knows what they’ll do to your village.” His tone is grim; he likely realizes, too, that it’d be dangerous to wander off again when he’s sick like this. He needs to take his time to get better.

“You once stayed here for three days, and nothing happened,” Adashino replies thoughtfully, kneeling down to scoop up Ginko’s clothes. “Honestly, there’s no need to tire yourself out worrying. It seems that you’ve just caught the flu, or maybe some bad cold; there’s a good chance you’ll be much better in three days’ time.” He smiles at Ginko. “Don’t worry about my village, not just yet. Just rest for now.”

* * *

But two days pass, and Ginko’s condition doesn’t get any better. Instead, his fever climbs every day, and it wears Ginko out to the point that he can’t even sit up for long.

Adashino stays by his side whenever he can, trying to bring Ginko’s fever down with medicine and damp cloths on his forehead. Ginko sleeps for hours at a time, his body clearly trying to catch up on the rest that it has missed out on during the past days. Still, Ginko’s sickness is persistent, and none of Adashino’s measures bring his temperature down much. It’s clear that Ginko won’t be leaving any time soon – he’s too weak to properly stand up, let alone set out on a new journey.

It’s the evening of the second day, and Adashino is sitting in the guest room, reading. Ginko is asleep, tossing and turning on his futon. His temperature is the highest it’s been so far, but he’s shivering nonetheless, his teeth chattering in his sleep. It’s not a very restful sleep, so Adashino eventually relents and wakes him up, carefully shaking him awake.

Ginko rolls onto his side – the damp cloth on his forehead falls off. He smothers a cough in his blanket. “How long did I sleep for?” he asks, rubbing the sleep from one eye. His movements are shaky, clumsy. Adashino recalls how he’d once thought that Ginko could easily be a doctor with steady hands like his; there’s not much left of that steadiness, now.

“About two hours,” Adashino replies. “You missed the sunset. It was quite pretty.” He puts his scroll aside and gets up. “You should eat, now that you’re awake. I made some soup; give me a minute and I’ll warm it up again.”

“Thanks,” Ginko murmurs.

“Ah, don’t thank me yet,” Adashino laughs sheepishly. “I added some medicinal herbs, and that didn’t have a very positive impact on the flavor, I’m afraid.”

Ginko seems to agree with him; his first spoonful of the soup makes him physically wince, and he abandons the bowl shortly afterwards, claiming he isn’t hungry. Adashino manages to bully him into finishing a glass of water, but that’s all he can convince Ginko to eat. At least it’s better than nothing.

Afterwards, Adashino cleans up the unfinished bowl of soup. When he returns to the guest room, Ginko is still sitting upright on his futon, heavily leaning his head on his hand, his eyes closed.

Adashino sits down next to him, eyebrows drawing together in concern. “What is it, Ginko?” he asks. “Are you feeling worse?”

Ginko cracks one eye open and shakes his head. “I don’t feel worse than just now,” he replies wearily. “It’s just that… I don’t want to be here, Adashino.”

“Is it because of the soup?”

Ginko glares at him. “You know it’s not.”

Adashino leans forward, rests his chin on his hand. “Well, if you didn’t want to be here, then you could’ve gone to any other physician out there,” he replies reasonably, without judgement. “Or you could’ve bought medicine somewhere.”

“I did. As soon as I realized I’d gotten sick, I went to the first village I came across and asked to see their doctor.” Ginko chuckles humorlessly. “They told me to my face to get lost. I have a feeling they didn’t want me there.”

“Oh.” Adashino knows that mushi-shi are sometimes met with paranoia, but it sounds so harsh to send away someone who’s sick and looking for help. “That’s… That’s horrible.”

“Occupational hazard.” Ginko rubs a hand across his face. “I bought some medicine from a medicine seller afterwards, but it didn’t stop the fever. So, well, I figured this was the next best place I could go.” His gaze is heavy underneath his frown. “If I could’ve stayed away, I would have.”

There’s something vulnerable in his voice, something that he attempts to tuck away under sarcasm and monotone words, but he’s clearly feeling too sick to fully succeed. Ginko closes his eyes briefly and then looks up, meeting Adashino’s gaze again.

“I’m sorry,” Ginko says. “I don’t want to put your village in danger. I’m leaving tomorrow.”

He sounds so drained, almost sad. Adashino straightens up, his eyebrows furrowed with resolve. “No,” he replies. “Whether you wanted to come here or not, Ginko, you’re my patient now. And on top of that, you’re my friend. I’ll let you leave when you’re _better_ , and not a moment before that.”

Ginko’s visible eye widens. “That’s irresponsible,” he says. “You have to consider your own life – the lives of the people who live around you. I know that mushi fascinate you, but you have to realize that they can be dangerous. That people will die if I stay here too long, and that neither you nor I can do anything about it.”

“You have ways to keep the mushi away,” Adashino argues. “I’ve seen you use it on people; the smoke, the mushi-repelling medicine. We can use those to stall for time until you recover.” When Ginko doesn’t give in, Adashino adds, more quietly: “Please. If you leave when you’re like this, I fear I’ll never see you again.”

The air between them feels physically heavy. Eventually, Ginko sighs, and nods. “Fine, then.”

* * *

And so, they get to work – well, it’s mostly Ginko who gets to work, because he won’t let Adashino touch any of his supplies. Adashino is banished to the corner of the room, where he watches with fascination and mild concern how Ginko fills the guest room with smoke. Strangely enough, the smoke isn’t difficult to breathe in at all, and it has the same odd smell as Ginko’s tobacco. Adashino is certain that the smell will never leave this room again. He finds that he’s not particularly upset about it.

Ginko explains to him that the smoke will slow down the effect he has on the mushi around him; the mushi will have a harder time noticing his presence. It’ll take longer for them to find him, but the way he phrases it makes it clear that he doesn’t know how long that that’ll be. Still, it’s better than doing nothing.

He also explains to Adashino that his cigarettes keep the mushi from harming him, in an attempt to convince the doctor to let him smoke. He’s almost successful – Adashino had been curious about his cigarettes for a while, and the new knowledge actually convinces him to make an exception – but Ginko’s first drag from his cigarette triggers a coughing fit that damn near kills him, so Adashino quickly backpedals on his decision. He won’t allow his patients to smoke, and that’s that. If the mushi end up harming Ginko, they’ll have to rely on the mushi-repelling medicine. Adashino mostly hopes that it won’t come to that.

But despite all their efforts to keep the mushi at bay, Ginko grows more restless with each passing hour, even as he sleeps. The third day arrives and passes, and Adashino finds himself lying awake at night – Ginko has never stayed for longer than three days. From now on, there’s no telling how long they’ll still be safe.

Around noon on the fourth day, Ginko points out that a cluster of mushi has made its home in the ceiling corner of the guest room. These mushi thankfully aren’t harmful to humans, but they’re persistent; the smoke isn’t warding them off. Ginko’s face pales considerably, seemingly permanently, after that moment. He’s started to attract stronger mushi, he explains, mushi that he can’t easily drive away. He doesn’t sleep anymore, after that.

That night, Adashino awakes to the sound of the fusuma sliding shut, thumping against the doorframe with slightly more force than necessary. Instantly alert, he gets up and hurries towards the back of the house, where he finds the fusuma standing ajar.

Outside – he would have disappeared into the darkness if Adashino had been mere moments later – is Ginko, carrying his luggage on his back. “Ginko!” Adashino calls out to him. “What are you doing?”

Ginko stills; he’d clearly hoped to slip away without Adashino noticing, as he’s done many times before, but Adashino has grown perceptive over the years. “I’m leaving,” he replies. His tone would have sounded dark, were it not for the way his voice wavers. He coughs into his elbow. “I’m putting you in danger if I stay here. You know that, Adashino.”

He’s right – Adashino is very aware of the danger – but that doesn’t change his determination not to let Ginko wander off like this. In his condition, in this cold, he would die. “At least let me come with you,” Adashino offers, pleads. “Until you’ve found another village where you can stay and rest for a while. Give me a moment, I’ll grab my things--”

“Don’t.” Ginko’s shoulders hunch. “Your village needs you. You can’t just up and leave.” He still doesn’t turn to look at Adashino. “You can’t come with me. Goodbye.”

“Ginko. _Stop_.”

Adashino likes to consider himself a calm person at heart. Sure, he can be loud and easily frustrated and he shouts at the drop of a hat, but he doesn’t anger easily, not truly. He can’t remember ever getting mad at Ginko – can’t remember ever having a reason to.

But here, now, watching his friend try to walk off towards certain death, something within him _snaps_.

“You’re not alone on this planet, damn you!” he shouts. “You can’t amble off into the woods with a dangerously high fever and expect me to be fine with that – I _know_ you know it’s dangerous to go alone. I can help you. I don’t care what I’ll have to do to save you.” His throat feels raw, his vocal cords unaccustomed to this kind of abuse. “Please, Ginko. Let me help.”

He’s out of breath; he can’t tell whether it’s the shouting itself that tired him out, or the emotional distress from yelling at his friend. Ginko finally turns around to face him. His face is as white as a sheet.

“Adashino…”

Instantly, Ginko faints.

* * *

Ginko thankfully regains consciousness quickly, and he allows Adashino to help him back into the house. The fall didn’t hurt him much, which Adashino is also thankful for, although Ginko’s back will probably be black and blue from where his luggage crashed down on him. Adashino examines him further and determines that it was nothing strange that caused Ginko’s fainting spell; simply the fact that he overexerted himself.

So this worrisome night eventually ends well, but it does make clear how desperate Ginko is to get out of the village. The next morning, Adashino leaves home to pay some visits.

His first visit is to one of the families that Ginko helped during the kumohami incident. Of course, any of the villagers would be happy to help Adashino – he’s saved their lives, and their relatives’ lives, on multiple occasions – but he needs to know for certain that they’d want to help _Ginko_ , too.

The father of the family owns a hunting cabin in the nearby forest, half a day’s travel from the sea. It’s an isolated place, and plenty far away that the village won’t be affected if Ginko starts attracting more dangerous mushi.

The man is happy to lend the cabin to Adashino for a while; Adashino tries to pay him for it, but he refuses, saying that he owes both Adashino and Ginko a favor anyway, since they saved his son’s life. Adashino leaves feeling grateful and more than a little relieved, because it’d be pretty embarrassing if the villagers had refused to help Ginko _right_ after Adashino yelled at him that he wasn’t as alone as he thought.

Right. Now, Ginko has a place to go, and Adashino will go with him. But he can’t abandon his village – he’s still their doctor, after all – so he pays a visit to one of the older villagers as well. She was the village’s doctor before Adashino took over that job. She’s been retired for years, but she knows how to treat the sick and wounded as well as Adashino does, so he asks her to take his place for a week, maybe two weeks. He asks her, and then begs her on his hands and knees when she refuses, until she finally gives in. She promises to look after the village in his absence. Everything is settled.

That afternoon, Adashino and Ginko start the trek to the cabin – Adashino had wanted to wait until the next morning, but Ginko wanted to get out of the village as soon as possible. Adashino gave in pretty quickly. He suspects that Ginko won’t rest properly until he’s certain that his presence isn’t harming anyone, anyway.

Rumors spread quickly in villages, so some fishermen who’ve always been friendly to Ginko soon hear about his trouble. Just as Adashino and Ginko are leaving, the fishermen appear on Adashino’s doorstep and insist on helping out. They help carry the necessary supplies to the cabin, although Adashino thinks it unfair to ask too much of them; Adashino himself carries Ginko’s luggage. It’s heavy. It’s difficult to imagine hauling this weight around everywhere, through storms and across mountains, day and night. It’s worse to remember Ginko’s confidence that he could carry his luggage himself, weakened as he is.

Adashino bears his burden, and they make their way to the cabin. Ginko soon tires himself out too badly to walk. One of the men offers to carry Ginko on his back, to which Ginko eventually, reluctantly, gives in. He stays awake the whole way, although he’s quiet; the only sounds that come from him, are half-smothered coughs and subsequent muttered apologies. Even when Adashino stops to check on him, he doesn’t speak more than necessary. It seems that last night tired him out a lot. Adashino just hopes that Ginko will allow himself some sleep as soon as they reach the cabin.

It’s freezing outside, and the temperature only drops after the sun sets. By the time they reach the cabin, Adashino’s face and fingers are too numb to move – he envies Ginko a bit, because he may be sick, but at least he’s still warm.

Ginko had already warned the fishermen not to stay around him for too long, so when they reach the cabin, the fishermen tell Ginko to get well soon, and they return to the village. Adashino gets a fire going in the fireplace and warms his cold hands and feet.

“I don’t know how you do it, Ginko,” Adashino complains as his skin starts to sting from the sudden warmth. “I don’t understand how you can spend all day outside in cold weather like this.” He stretches out his back, and adds with a whine: “Or how you carry your stuff around all the time. I’ve suddenly gained loads of respect – and concern – for your back and shoulders.”

Ginko is sitting next to him, leaning against the wall. A tired smile plays around his mouth – well, at least Adashino’s struggle has entertainment value. “Not everyone can stay cooped up by the fire all winter, doctor,” he replies easily.

Adashino knows that this is supposed to be a jab at his intolerance for physical hard work, but Ginko’s remark also drives home the point that he _needs_ to travel; even if he wanted to stay inside all winter, he couldn’t. “Hey. Ginko.”

“Hm?”

“I’m sorry for yelling at you yesterday.”

Ginko hums again and stares ahead thoughtfully. “I think it’s for the best that you stopped me, in the end,” he says after a while. “I never would’ve made it far.”

Adashino just nods, acknowledges that truth. “Yeah. I’m glad you listened to me.” He’s mostly glad that Ginko isn’t mad at him. Adashino gets up from the floor, cleans his foggy monocle with his sleeve. “Well, I’ll go unpack our stuff,” he says. “I’ll show you that I can do more than just sit on my ass, thank you very much.”

Ginko’s mouth twitches into a smirk, and he gets up as well. “Considering that you have very little strength to back up that claim,” he replies, earning an insulted yelp from Adashino, “maybe it’s for the best if I help you a bit.”

* * *

Ginko’s burst of energy turns out to be painfully short-lived, likely caused by the fact that the cold weather lowered his fever a little. The next morning, he’s back to being too exhausted to sit upright. Adashino fills the cabin with smoke with his instructions, but it doesn’t seem to help much anymore; by nightfall, Ginko reports that mushi have made their way into the cabin already. They seem to have followed him away from the village. Adashino isn’t sure whether that’s good news or terrible news.

A more acute cause for concern is that Ginko starts experiencing awful headaches, bad enough to make him groan in pain. They’re frequent, too; the cabin consists of only one room, so Adashino notices that Ginko wakes up every hour to grab at his head and try to stifle his groans. Adashino can’t find any cause for it – headaches are a common symptom of a fever, but they shouldn’t be this severe, or this sudden. Painkillers don’t seem to have much effect, either.

It’s after another one of those bouts of pain that Ginko sits up and presses his hand against his left eye, his fingertips turning white with the effort. He’s panting, trembling; Adashino can see how the collar of his shirt has gone damp with sweat.

It’s the middle of the night, and the only source of light is a candle that’s standing on the floor and the moonlight that falls in through the window. Adashino sits up on his futon, watching Ginko with concern. “Hey,” he calls, gently. “Are you okay? Do you need me to grab a painkiller for you?”

And as he watches, blood runs down Ginko’s hand.

“Hey!” Adashino shouts, alarmed. He scrambles up and moves to kneel down next to Ginko, but he holds out a hand to keep him at a distance.

“It’s fine,” he replies, although his tone implies something else. “This has happened before. It’s not as bad as you think.”

Adashino sits down on the floor, not taking his eyes off Ginko. “Are you sure?” he asks, his brow furrowing with worry. He’d trust Ginko’s judgement blindly, but he’s not certain how the fever and the lack of proper sleep are affecting his mind. He seems disturbingly calm about the fact that his eye is bleeding.

“Yeah.” Ginko cleans the blood off his face with his sleeve, leaving a dark smear on the white fabric. He turns to Adashino; his gaze seems to focus oddly well in the near-darkness. “Adashino,” he says quietly, his voice more whisper than word. “There’s… something I need you to see.”

At Adashino’s mute nod, Ginko brushes aside the hair in front of his face, revealing his left eye – or, rather, the place where his left eye ought to be. Instead, there’s only an empty eye socket, a dark hole. Even in this scarce light, it somehow seems _too_ dark. As if the light simply will not enter.

Adashino feels his breathing hitch. “What caused this?” he asks, although he’s afraid of the answer. He hopes – prays – that this injury was caused by mushi, because he’s not certain if he can bear it if Ginko lost his eye because of another human.

Ginko ruffles his hair back into place and closes his eyes. “A mushi,” he replies, but his tone is so tired and solemn that Adashino can’t bring himself to feel relieved. “It’s called a tokoyami.” He puts his hand across his left eye, sighing. “It’s lived inside me for as long as I can remember – I can’t get rid of it. It gets… restless, sometimes. I don’t think it likes the presence of so many other strong mushi.”

“So that’s what’s causing you pain,” Adashino states. The knowledge doesn’t ease the raging worry inside him.

Ginko only nods. “Yeah. And there’s nothing we can do about it except wait until I can move again. You don’t have to worry about it, anymore.”

Adashino is silent. He’s a doctor, so he’s seen people suffer many times before, but it still frustrates him when he can’t help ease someone’s pain.

“Don’t worry,” Ginko repeats when Adashino doesn’t say anything. “I’ll deal with it.”

* * *

As if the universe hasn’t been cruel enough to Ginko lately, things quickly get worse. It’s the following morning when he wakes up with a sudden gasp and tells Adashino that a mushi just pierced his skin, that it’s living in his body, now. Adashino quickly hands him his medicine and a glass of water, but Ginko’s hands shake so badly that he spills almost the entire glass. It turns out that his fever has climbed even higher.

From there on, it’s all downhill. The smoke and the medicine no longer suffice to ward off the mushi; they’re too strong, too persistent. They’re strong enough that Adashino can feel their presence, can feel his skin start to crawl whenever he gets too close to Ginko.

Ginko tells him, words flowing together in stutters and groans, of the mushi that now live within him – how they twist underneath his skin and writhe around in his bones and how it _hurts_. For the first time in his life, Adashino understands why the villagers fear the mushi.

The mushi in his empty eye grows more and more restless with the hour, making Ginko thrash around on his futon, his hand clawing at his empty eye socket even in sleep. He falls unconscious before noon, either from pain or from exhaustion. During his rare waking moments, Ginko tries to convince Adashino to leave before he gets infested with mushi, too, but his half-delirious stammering only strengthens the doctor’s resolve to stay by his side. He takes the mushi-repelling medicine and hopes that that’ll be enough, at least for a while.

Adashino watches over him, fighting to lower Ginko’s temperature – but the damp cloths he puts on his forehead warm up almost immediately, and the cold air from the window only makes him shiver awfully.

It’s the middle of the night when Adashino finally allows himself a moment to sit down. He’s tired; he hasn’t slept much over the last three nights. He tries to fight his drowsiness, but his eyelids fall shut, and he quickly falls asleep.

* * *

_Ginko awakes to ringing in his ears and the taste of copper in his mouth._

_It’s difficult to move – it’s difficult to breathe, with how the mushi press down on him. He can barely see anything through the clusters of mushi that swirl around him. The mushi are loud, as if they’re crying out like Ginko wishes he could cry out._

_It’s agonizing to feel the mushi shift underneath his skin, restless and ever moving, but his mind is clear for the first time in days. He can’t move well enough to take his own temperature, but he knows that his fever finally broke._

_Ginko gathers his things and takes today’s dose of his mushi-repelling medicine. He’s clumsy and loud, but the noise doesn’t wake Adashino up. Even when Ginko kneels next to him, his knees hitting the floor with an awkward thump, he doesn’t stir._

_Ginko sits there for a while, studying him. It doesn’t seem like he’s infested with mushi – Adashino seems to naturally repel mushi, and no matter how much that frustrates him, it may have saved his life today._

_With that reassurance, Ginko prepares to leave, but he pauses in the doorway to look at his friend once more. He’s snoring softly, sleeping deeply. So tired from helping Ginko. Despite his current awful pain, Ginko can’t hold back a smile._

_“Thank you, Adashino.”_

_He picks up his luggage and leaves while it’s still dark._

_To those who can see the mushi, he looks more mushi than man, the mushi tangled and wrapped all around his body. To those who are unable to perceive, he merely looks like a stranger limping along the forest path, legs trembling, spine bent. Coughing from his own cigarette smoke._

_By the time the sun rises, he looks more man than mushi again. The mushi-shi has returned to the outside world. His wanderings continue._

**Author's Note:**

> I discovered Mushishi near the end of last year and it’s truly made its way into my heart since then. This was written as a love letter to the show and manga – I’ve wanted to explore this particular scenario ever since Ginko’s affinity for attracting mushi was revealed in canon, but I wanted to wait until I’d finished the show, so that I’d be able to write this properly. We’re told in canon that Ginko can’t stay in one place for too long; I wanted to explore the consequences of him being _forced_ to stay somewhere.
> 
> Thank you for reading :)


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